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no-passaran · 7 months

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A newspaper in my country has interviewed Siddharth Kara, one of the experts on what's going on in the cobalt mines in Congo. I think it's very well explained and a must-read to get an overview of this huge human rights violation that is going on. So here I translate it to English, hoping it will reach more people.

Siddharth Kara: "Every time we buy a new mobile phone, we put our foot around the neck of a child in the Congo"

Interview with the author of Cobalt Red: How the Blood of the Congo Powers Our Lives

"The poorest people in the world, including tens of thousands of children, dig the earth in toxic and very dangerous conditions to find cobalt," says journalist and writer Siddharth Kara (Knoxville, Tennessee, USA, 1974). The rechargeable batteries of our mobile phones, tablets, laptops or electric vehicles need this mineral that thousands of children, men, women and elderly people extract from the Congolese mines in inhumane conditions. Kara went there because he had specialized in research on slavery, and in Congo he found a modernized form of slavery. "Time has passed, but the colonial mentality has not," he explains. Everything he saw there and what was explained to him is recounted in Cobalt Red: How the Blood of the Congo Powers Our Lives (a book that does not have a translation into Catalan, but which has now been translated into Spanish, by Capitán Swing). The photographs and videos illustrating this interview were taken by himself.

—Was it difficult to write this book? —Yes. Firstly, because of the specific difficulty of this area of the Congo: very dangerous, very militarized. There are armed militias. And for the local people there it is dangerous to talk to foreigners, because it can bring them consequences. It was difficult to get there, and then it was difficult to build trust with the people who worked there. I only managed it thanks to this trust, which we achieved little by little, until we were sure that we could do the research with guarantees and ethically.

—What drove you to the Congo cobalt mines? —I had been doing research on slavery since 2000. Around 2016, some African colleagues contacted me and said: “Siddharth, something terrible is happening in the cobalt mines of the Congo, maybe you should go there”. I had no idea what cobalt was. I thought it was a color used for painting. I didn't know it was used for rechargeable batteries. It took me a couple of years to grasp its importance. Then I started making contacts to travel there, and in the summer of 2018 I went there.

—And what did you find there? —The suffering and degradation I saw there were so intense that I decided to return there often to write a book. Hundreds of thousands of the world's poorest people, including tens of thousands of children, dig the earth in toxic and very dangerous conditions to find cobalt and put it into circulation, in a distribution chain that goes to the rechargeable devices and cars that people like you and me use every day. It was a human apocalypse, a total invasion of human rights and the dignity of the Congolese people.

—Could you describe what a mine like this is like, physically? How should we imagine it? —Those who are at the top of the economic chain of cobalt exploitation like to distort the truth, and use the term "artisanal mine". This way, they evoke a kind of picturesque activity, but on the ground it is a dangerous and degrading job. A mine of this kind is a mass of tunnels, pits and trenches filled with thousands of people who dig with shovels, pieces of metal or directly with their bare hands. They fill a sack with earth, stone and mud. Some children rinse it in toxic pools to separate the mud from the cobalt stones, which a whole family pours into another sack. It might take twelve hours to fill a forty-kilo sack or two. For each sack they get paid a few euros, very few, and that's how they live every day. They survive.

This video was filmed by Siddharth Kara: [you can watch the video in the interview link, freely available without any paywall, here]

—Is there any rational organization in these mines? Is there someone who decides who does what to optimize work? —Well, there is a whole gear designed so that the poor and the children of the Congo produce hundreds of thousands of tons of cobalt every year. There, work is usually divided by age and gender. Digging tunnels, which requires a lot of strength, is usually done by young men and teenagers. The digging of small pits and trenches that can be less meters deep is done by women and smaller children. Rinsing this toxic cobalt is usually done by the children. The merchant system to exploit these families and sell the cobalt they produce to the formal industrial mines is very well set up.

—What else do these people at the top of the chain invent? —Another fiction they invent is that there is a difference between industrial and artisanal mining, and that they only buy from the industrial one, where there is no child labor. Not true: all cobalt is mined by children. All the cobalt that the children and peasants extract goes straight to industrial mining. In addition, there is no way to separate what comes from a bulldozer and what comes from a child, once it all pours into the same place in the facility that does the industrial processing before this cobalt is sent out of the Congo.

—You explain that the situation is particularly abusive for women. —Yes. It is a lawless land, and violence is the norm. Women and girls always bear the brunt: they are victims of physical and sexual violence, and almost no one talks about it. It is a major tragedy: they are victims of sexual assaults that are committed in the mines themselves, while they collect the cobalt that we have in our mobile phones.

—You refer to all of this as a new episode of slavery. It is not the first time that the Congo has a decisive material for Western economic development. It happened with uranium for nuclear bombs, for example. History repeats itself. —Exactly. It is important for people to understand that we are not witnessing an isolated case, but the latest episode in a long, very long, history of looting of the Congo, a very resource-rich country, dating back to the colonial period. The first automobile revolution required rubber for tires. The Congo had one of the largest rubber tree rainforests in the world. King Leopold [of Belgium] deployed a mercenary army of criminals and terrorists to enslave the population and make them work to get it. This inspired Joseph Conrad's novel Heart of Darkness. The Congo also has abundant reserves of gold, diamonds, nickel, lithium and other metals and minerals that make components for electronic devices…

—These mercenaries deployed by King Leopold, are they still there today, in one way or another? —Yes. On the ground there are militias, or the army, or private security forces that the mining companies hire and that, sometimes, in addition to monitoring, do the work of recruiting children. Under the threat of an occupation, they force an entire town to dig. It's atrocious: we live in an age of supposed moral progress, where everyone shares the same human rights, and yet our global economic order has its knee on the necks of the children and the poor of the Congo, with this huge demand for cobalt that has to fuel the rechargeable economy.

—Has no Western country or international body done anything to stop it? —No. No western country, no government, no big business has lifted a finger to address this tragedy. They talk about maintaining human rights standards in their supply chains, they talk about environmental sustainability, but it's only talk. That is why it is very important that journalists and researchers set foot on the land of the Congo and listen to what the Congolese have to say: that no one protects their rights or their dignity, that they are erasing the environment, that mining it is not done in a sustainable way and the whole countryside is polluted and destroyed by the mining operations. It is enough to walk ten minutes around a mine to see it.

—Does the same happen in all mines? Large Western companies that use cobalt often claim that theirs comes from artisanal mines that meet standards. —Have they gone there? There is no decent mine in the Congo. It does not exist. I'll be happy to take any CEO of any tech company to their mines, where their cobalt comes from. We'll stand there, watching them extract it, and take a selfie with it. Everyone will realize that what is seen behind us is not decent. You will see destruction, millions of trees felled, installations that emit toxic gases that fall on the surrounding towns, on the children, on the animals, on the food. There is no decent mine in the Congo. And they know it. But who will believe the voice of a Congolese if they can drown it out with proclamations of human rights while they continue to make money without measure?

—Can you explain the role China plays in all of this? You say that it controls the supply chain. —Yes. China controls about 70% of mining production in the Congo. Why do we accept China saying its mines are decent, if they don't even protect the human rights of their own people? Why do we accept a technology company or a car manufacturer saying, "My Chinese partners say they protect human rights there, and that's enough for me"? Why do we accept it?

—Why do you say that a certain transition to green energy is absolute hypocrisy? —When the calls in favor of this transition consist of proposing to consumers that they buy electric vehicles instead of gasoline cars, this is hypocrisy. Because the cobalt and other elements that are used for the batteries of these cars are extracted using methods that are catastrophic for the environment. While in one part of the world we say we want to save the environment and leave a greener planet to our children, in another we are destroying both the planet and the future of their children. How can you save only part of the planet, turning the rest into a toxic dump? How can we give a green planet only to our children, while we let other people's children die? This is hypocritical.

—It is a reflection of the domination that the global north maintains over the south. —We have never given Congo the opportunity to benefit from its own resources. It is a colonial mentality: time has passed, but the colonial mentality has not. It is the same type of colonial plunder from a century and a half ago. It is colonial to say: "Look, we need this, they have it, we take it from them in any way and, when we no longer need it, we leave a catastrophe behind us". There are companies that, recently, have started to pretend that they are becoming aware of this and promised that they would try to use batteries that did not have cobalt, but in reality they said: "Well, we've been caught, we'll look for another mechanism". And they do nothing to solve the catastrophe. Even if we no longer needed cobalt tomorrow, we would have to repair the destruction we have caused these past fifteen years.

—It's the big companies who should be required to react, but what do you think a Western consumer who has gotten upset reading you could do? —The first step to progress in the conquest of human rights is always to make injustice known. Contribute to make everyone knows. Most people are good and, in their hearts, want no part of injustice. It is the few who move based on avarice and greed who pollute the rest of humanity. Outreach and awareness is the first step because it will inevitably activate a lot of people. Change always starts like this. In the case of cobalt, the second step is to think about our consumption habits. Every twelve months, the technology company I bought my phone from offers me a new one. Do I really need it? Every time we buy a new mobile phone, we put our foot on the neck of a child in the Congo. Better think twice, then.

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b4mpyre-k1zz3s · 4 months

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Cupid’s Chokehold

Bam is completely, utterly, head over heels in love with you, and all his friends can do is wonder what the hell happened?

Bam Margera X Fem!Reader

(Fluff)

1.9k Words

Warnings: Suggestive content, crude language, alcohol, injury, drugging mention, jealousy

An: This request was by my ABSOLUTELY AMAZING friend, @camariesintrusivethoughts, so please go give them some love! I had a tricky time figuring out who this fic was going to be for before I realized that Bam would probably be the only one to ever be this obsessed with one person! XD Anyways, thank you for the requests, and please keep sending them in!!

“She has got you by the balls, man!” Steve, already shitfaced, smacked Bam on the arm as he wobbled on his barstool, “You could get all the pussy in the world, and you pick her?” He couldn’t believe it! Bam was on tv, which is pretty much open season on chicks, but he was still stuck on his hometown sweetheart from, what- high school? Fucker even had a photo of you in his wallet, like he was some solider going overseas. Bam took a swig from his beer, shaking his head with a knowing smile, ��Listen, man- you just don’t know Y/N.” No matter how many broken tailbones of his you cared for or nights you carried- not dragged, carried him home from the bar, Steve would probably never get why he loved you so much.

You kinda had to be careful about what you said around Bam because he would do just about anything for you at the drop of a hat- like that time you mentioned how sexy he looked when he played guitar, and then every night for a week he practiced until his fingers throbbed and his fretboard was smeared with blood. It was worth it though, at least in his eyes. Bam still had those callouses, but he thought it was kinda cute because every time he felt their roughness, he was reminded of you. Or that time the two of you were out shopping at the King of Prussia mall and he caught you staring in a store window at this dress you knew you could never afford. A few days pass and guess what showed up on your doorstep? Yep. And a pair of matching heels too. You said jump, and Bam didn’t even ask how high. That’s how, when you asked Bam to give you a call once he got to the hotel, he ended up not only calling you every night but keeping you on the line forever when he did.

It had been two hours and Bam hadn’t moved an inch from where he was laying on the bed with his phone pressed to his ear, “Oh shit, really?” There was something really cute about the way he seemed so interested in what you had to say, even if it was a little excessive for you detailing the mundane activities that happened at the office that day, “Yeah! And then this bitch was like, ‘you would’ve known that if you read the email I sent everyone!’ Ugh. I hate it here.”

Just out of Bam’s line of sight, Ryan had been steadily creeping up on him. This is how he justified it in his head: they were best friends and this was for his own good, because from the looks of the other guys in the room, they were about one ‘Aww, no you hang up!’ away from strangling him. So something had to be done, and if that something was him hitting Bam with the pillow he was hiding behind his back, then that’s what was gonna happen. “You know, if you really wanted to, I coul-“ Before your boyfriend could finish his sentence you heard this loud thwack, followed by laughter. Bam’s words came out in a jumble, “Heyigottacallyouback, bye!” Before he abruptly hung up.

Quickly snatching a pillow from the bed, Bam whipped around to Ryan and delivered a well deserved blow to his head, “Dude, what the hell?” But he dodged, rolling to one side and pulling himself to his feet, “You’ve been on the phone long enough! All this, ‘Oh I love you!’ ‘No, I love you!’ crap!” It wasn’t hard for Ryan to block Bam’s wimpy swings, but it seemed the ensuing pillow fight diffused the remaining tension as Chris and Steve took up their own pillows, while Knoxville just sat back on his bed, pretty damn entertained at the four of them acting like teen girls at a sleepover.

That is until things got a little too rough and someone smacked their head on the sharp corner of the dresser, because it’s all fun and games until someone gets a head injury. Sufficiently exhausted, Bam laid back in his bed with a sigh, ready to call it a night right as the AMs rolled around, “C’mon, I’m not that bad, right?” Everyone seemed to simultaneously agree that yes, he was that bad- even Chris, who was both the nicest guy there and the one who was nursing the sore spot on his temple with a bag of ice machine ice, nodded in agreement. Kicking off his pants as Ryan laid down next to him, Bam rolled his eyes, “You guys’re assholes…”

Ryan blinked awake around six to Bam snuggling into his side, which wasn’t that odd of an occurrence given how often the two shared beds, but there was something in the way he giggled in his sleep, mumbling Y/N’s name to himself that made him make a note to ask him in the morning if he had any nice dreams last night.

Sure, Bam had other girlfriends before you, but it never got this bad. And it didn’t take that much to string him along either- coo a few ‘I love you’s his way and throw in a couple kisses, and he was putty in your hands. But more than that, what he loved about you was that you were always there for him: whether it be you bandaging him up after a stunt gone wrong or good-luck quickies before a skate competition, you always stuck right by his side, and Bam just went wild over you. But right now, this distance between the two of you was killing him, so he was thankful that filming on the tv series was wrapping up for the season soon and he could head back home to you.

Since Bam met you, every time Phill called him when some agent or an interviewer who was trying to reach him, every conversation seemed to lead to him talking about how amazing this girl was. You smile, your eyes, the way you laughed and cheered at his stunts- even the ones that weren't even that cool. You were special, not like any of those crazy chicks he falls for- the ones that break into his house, smash his computers, and smear pizza on the interior of his Lamborghini when he breaks up with them. She was the type of girl he could be proud to call a daughter in-law. And speaking of, with the way his son was talking about you, it wouldn’t surprise him if Bam ended up marrying you.

And as sweet as that sentiment was, Bam’s obsession had a tendency to get on the other guys’ nerves, like when they were piled in the van and, instead of participating in the usual bad behavior and mild property destruction he would otherwise be all for, Bam spent the whole time talking with you on the phone like he was some kinda lovesick teenager, completely ignoring the way everyone else in the van was talking shit about him. Ryan, who initially thought Bam was getting sick at the onset of this whole infatuation thing, was the first to vent his frustrations, “What the fuck with this girl? He doesn’t even have time for us anymore.” He was losing his best buddy to some girl- this never happens. “You jealous someone’s takin’ your boy toy away?” Despite his teasing, Johnny seemed to be the only one with anything positive to say, like the old romantic he is, “I think his thing with Y/N is kinda sweet, Y’know? I mean, in a Bam way.” Which is to say, in an immature yet sickeningly sweet way nobody can ignore. Steve, who caused a little too much trouble at the bar and earned the punishment of getting stuck sitting next to Bam in the van, kept his voice hushed as he turned around to the other guys, “Hey, Ryan. Maybe you could start fuckin’ him before skate competitions.” Which earned him a playful shove and a muttered, “Fuck you...”

It was then that Chris, who seemed to be the voice of reason here, brought up an interesting point, “I mean, we’ve never seen her before, right? What if she’s, like- really hot?” It was impressive logic, especially considering this was coming from a guy recovering from a head injury. Everybody murmured in agreement and decided that maybe they would hold off on slipping those sleeping pills into Bam’s soda to get a few hours of quiet. Funny enough, that next morning, Bam’s phone disappeared. Well, it didn’t really disappear- they all knew whose pocket it was sitting in- but nobody was too eager to let it slip. So there Bam went, looking high and low in the motel room while the guys sat back and twiddle their thumbs. “I swear- I just had the fuckin’ thing…” While he was looking under the bed for the tenth time, Johnny cleared his throat, leaning against the doorframe, “Maybe you, uh- you left it in one of the trailers on set?” He shot a look at a couple of the other guys and they agreed, nodding along.

It seemed every other word that came out of Bam’s mouth that morning had something to do with making a detour to the Verizon store, which surprisingly got on everybody’s nerves less than him talking about you. See, he didn’t have your number committed to memory, so it’s not like he could just borrow a phone from one of the other guys. You must be worried sick about him- god, he was such a shitty boyfriend. In reality, this couldn’t be further than the truth, but love can make you a little crazy. Despite the fact Bam spent all day on set sulking, once he got over the initial despair, he seemed to be acting a little more like himself, much to the pleasure and the preservation of sanity of all of those around him. For one night, one glorious night, everyone had peace and quiet- or at least as peaceful and as quiet the jackass guys could be. And Ryan got his boytoy back! On that subject, the guilt from stealing his friend’s phone was starting to eat away at him, so funnily enough it was that next morning he ‘found’ Bam’s phone, sitting conveniently on the nightstand.

It was nearing ten or eleven when you heard the doorbell go off. Oh, Bam must be back from filming, you thought, getting up from your spot on your couch: no matter how late or inconvenient it was, his first stop once he got home was always your place. He’d spend hours with you, eagerly detailing everything he and the guys got up to and ‘making up for lost time’ with you, which you couldn’t complain about. Still, you’re not used to someone being this into you, so you always got a little surprised at how excited Bam was to see you. And when you opened the door, there he was, illuminated by the glow from the light inside that shone out into the night, staring at you all wide eyed in awe. Tossing his duffel bag on the floor, your boyfriend didn’t even bother taking his jacket off as he nearly tackled you into a hug. God, he really knew how to melt your heart, didn’t he? Sighing, you reached up to hold him back, laying your cheek against his. Yep, this one’s yours.

#jackass #bam margera #ryan dunn #johnny knoxville #steve o #chris pontius #jackass fanfiction #jackass fanfic #fluff #jackass x reader #bam margera x reader

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murder-ballad-ballot · 1 year

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murder ballad ballot poll tournament

welcome to the murder ballad ballot!

the playlist with all (or most) of the submitted songs and recordings can be found here.

song propaganda is more than welcome, either in the reblogs or through the askbox

polls for round 3 will be posted once per day, starting on tuesday, july 25th

each poll will stay active for a week

all songs were submitted by followers

full list of matchups under the cut

results

round 1

rain and snow vs pretty polly

greenwood sidey vs jellon graeme

how came that blood vs knoxville girl

poor ellen smith vs long lankin

henry lee vs banks of the ohio

the bonnie banks o' fordie vs tom dooley

the cruel lowland maid vs frankie

down in the willow garden vs polly vaughn

wind and rain vs rolling of the stones

willie's fatal visit vs the twa sisters

omie wise vs lady diamond

child owlet vs the murder ballad

matty groves vs the bramble briar

false sir john vs stagolee

frankie silvers vs little sadie

hiram hubbard vs lord randall

round 2

pretty polly vs jellon graeme

how came that blood vs long lankin

henry lee vs tom dooley

frankie vs down in the willow garden

wind and rain vs the twa sisters

omie wise vs the murder ballad

matty groves vs stagolee

little sadie vs lord randall

round 3

pretty polly vs long lankin

henry lee vs frankie - tie

wind and rain vs omie wise

stagolee vs lord randall

round 4 (semifinals)

henry lee vs long lankin vs frankie

wind and rain vs stagolee

matchups

round 5 (finals)

long lankin vs henry lee; long lankin vs frankie

wind and rain vs stagolee

#murder ballads #folk music #tournament poll

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jackasswhre · 1 year

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can you do hesdcannons or something for Bam and Johnny with a reader who struggles with depression and anxiety? if you don’t feel comfortable i understand, so maybe Bam and Johnny x reader who is super clingy?

heyyyyyyy, its not that im not comfortable w it just have like 3 other requests and ive been so busy so im gonna do the super clingy one now and maybe when i have more free time ill do the first one! hope you like it :))

Johnny Knoxville/Bam Margera x super clingy reader

Johnny Knoxville

See now this man is 50/50

He usually loves it

But when he's really busy with whatever then he might think it's a bit annoying

So idk if you can maybe try to hold back a bit when he's working

But I promise when he's not busy, he loves it

He loves having you around 24/7

Hugging him, kissing him, whatever

He loves all of it

(Except for maybe when you're are around the other guys (jackass crew, ect) then maybeeeeee the kissing would be too much)

His favorite activity is cuddling on the couch and watching tv

He's always busy so that definetely helps him unwind

But yeah in conclusion he loves the fact that you're clingy

Bam Margera

Ok so omg

Bam is totally super clingy himself

You cannot convince me otherwise

He loves having an arm around you, kissing you, hugging you, anything

So if you do the same to him istg

Bro will melt

He loves it when you initiate contact

Honestly he could probably spend his entire life chilling and cuddling with you

He's like geniuenly so obsessed with it

Also compared to Johnny, Bam does not care if you kiss him around the guys

Literally not a single fuck given

He loves showing you off so if you do the same with him he will literally marry you

And listen I know I said that Bam's incredibly clingy right?

Well be prepared for when he's drunk

He's literally 10 times more clingy then he was before

If he could hold you 24/7 I promise that he would

a/n: im sorry that its so short, but i hope its okay :))

#jackass #viva la bam #jackass x reader #viva la bam x reader #bam margera #jackass number two #jackass the movie #bam margera x reader #bam margera headcanons #bam margera imagine #johnny knoxville headcanons #johnny knoxville x reader #johnny knoxville #johnny knoxville imagine

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vintage1981 · 1 year

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Actress and Author, Lara Parker, of Dark Shadows, Passes at 84

Lara Parker, who found the role of a lifetime at just 28 years old when she was cast by Dark Shadows producer Dan Curtis as the beautiful, vengeful and altogether evil witch Angelique Bouchard Collins, died October 12 in her sleep in Los Angeles following a battle with cancer. She was 84.

Her death was announced by producer Jim Pierson of Dan Curtis Productions, on behalf of Parker’s family.

“I’m heartbroken, as all of us are who knew and loved her,” said her Dark Shadows co-star and longtime friend Kathryn Leigh Scott in a statement. “She graced our lives with her beauty, talent and friendship, and we are all richer for having had her in our lives.”

Parker was born Mary Lamar Rickey on Oct. 27, 1938, in Knoxville, Tennessee. Her father, Albert, was an attorney, and her mother, Ann, was active in civic groups.

She graduated from Central High School in Memphis and attended Vassar — she roomed with Jane Fonda there — and Rhodes College in Memphis, where at 19 she served as Wink Martindale’s assistant on his WHBQ-TV show, Dance Party. She then earned a master’s degree from the University of Iowa.

Parker, who also authored four popular Dark Shadows-related novels from 1998-2016, arrived on the supernatural soap opera in 1967, not long after Canadian actor Jonathan Frid had been cast as vampire Barnabas Collins. Frid’s storyline changed the show from a moody, Gothic Jane Eyre-type serial into a flat-out horror show.

During breaks in production, Parker acted on Broadway in September 1968 in Woman Is My Idea, which lasted just five performances, and in the early Brian De Palma film Hi, Mom! (1970), starring Robert De Niro.

And toward the end of the daytime serial, she and fellow castmembers including John Karlen, Kate Jackson, David Selby and Grayson Hall appeared in the poorly received MGM film Night of Dark Shadows (1971).

In 1972, Parker relocated to Los Angeles and went on to appear on episodes of such shows as Medical Center, Kojak, The Rockford Files, Police Woman, Kolchak: The Night Stalker (as a witch) and The Incredible Hulk, where she played David Banner’s first wife in a flashback sequence in the pilot.

In her later years, Parker turned to writing and teaching — her novels include Angelique’s Descent (1998), The Salem Branch (2006), Wolf Moon Rising (2013) and Heiress of Collinwood (2016). The books proved popular among Dark Shadows‘ still-devoted, conventions-attending fan base, as well as devotees of romance and horror genre novels.

Parker kept in touch with her co-stars including Scott, Selby, Roger Davis, the late John Karlen and others throughout her life, particularly once the conventions became annual events in the late 1980s through the 1990s and up to the 50th anniversary celebration in 2017.

Many of the original cast, including Parker, recorded a series of Dark Shadows audio dramas in the 2000s released by Big Finish Productions. They also reunited for a “Smartphone Theatre” Zoom-style, Covid-era performance of A Christmas Carol in 2021 and, on Halloween night 2020, a YouTube/Zoom Dark Shadows cast reunion.

Parker is survived by second husband Jim Hawkins, daughter Caitlin, sons Rick and Andy, and their wives Miranda and Celia; and grandson Wesley.

#Lara Parker #Dark Shadows #Dan Curtis #Jonathan Frid #The Incredible Hulk #Kojak #Kathryn Leigh Scott #Big Finish Productions #David Selby #Grayson Hall #Angelique Bouchard #Angelique Bouchard Collins #Barnabas Collins

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downtownbunnybaby · 2 years

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JACKASS CHRISTMAS SPECIAL

Jackass x G!N Reader

A/N: accidentally deleted the ask in my inbox requesting a Jackass Christmas special, so I really hope this reached the person who asked.

Description: Christmas Activities With the Jackass guys. Fluff. SWF. Once again Johnny Knoxville romance subplot. This came out a litte shorter than I wanted but at least it's here. It's more of a blurb than a full length fic but whatever.

Warnings: emetophobia, swearing, alcohol consumption, Bam being a flirt, MAJOR romantic Johnny Knoxville subplot, and general Jackass nonsense.

1,470K

From your days working at Big Brother Magazine, the Christmas parties always felt close to you. This year was the first official Jackass Christmas party, and everyone had the full intention of making it remarkable.

You entered the elevator, heading to the floor the Jackass offices currently reside. You had spent all night baking an assortment of sugar and gingerbread cookies, and although you weren't the best, you still had an affinity for baking. As each ding signaled your destination, you grew increasingly more excited. Once the elevator doors open, a sweet familiar face greets you.

“Hi, doll,” Johnny smiles, swiftly taking the container of cookies from your hands and placing a quick kiss on your cheek. “Notice anything new?” You smile at his outfit. You had purchased matching Christmas sweaters to wear to the party, but you had no idea Johnny would follow through.

“You look amazing,” You say as you make your way to the party.

“I had to let everyone know you’re mine,” It’s the last thing he says before you’re interrupted by your friends greeting and offering you an assortment of drinks and snacks. Festive ornaments and colorful lights decorated the room, and the smell of pine and cinnamon lingered in the air. You could only assume it was an attempt to mask the smell of cigarettes and vomit.

Everyone was in the holiday spirit, laughing, joking, and sharing stories about their wildest stunts from the past year. You stood by the snacks, listening to Steveo retell how he made it into Big Brother Magazine.

“Yeah, dude, I jumped into the freezing water because I wanted to be famous so badly,”

“We almost ditched you,” Adds Tremaine, laughing at Steveo’s shocked face.

“Not cool, man,”

Preston and Wee-Man join you at the snack table as the conversation evolves into a bodily fluid talk.

“Here! have a cookie,” The duo graciously takes your homemade cookies, despite the burnt edges and other “minor” flaws. “Good, right!”

“A little burnt but still pretty good,” Says Wee-Man, taking another bite of the gingerbread man. Preston nods in agreement.

“Yes! Here, let me get you a drink,” The two laugh at your enthusiasm as you pour them eggnog. Wee-Man does not hesitate to take the cup from your hand, the burnt part of the cookie becoming a little too dry in his mouth. However, Preston simply eyes the eggnog in the festive paper cup, shaking his head. “Don’t ever offer me eggnog again,”

“Why? What happened? You ask, not understanding his deadpan expression and displeasure with eggnog.

Laughing, Wee-Man reminds you of a skit from the Christmas Episode. “Frosty drank 100 cups of eggnog,”

“So did I, and I can still drink eggnog,” You add, still not understanding his dilemma.

Preston simply shakes his head in disbelief. “You gave up after 10 cups,”

Before you can respond, Spike announces that it’s time for secret Santa.

“I hope you know I’m offended by your comment, Preston,” You break into a fit of giggles, incapable of being solemn. It was your idea to do secret Santa, and you could not be more excited. Naturally, you gravitated to sit on the floor between Pontius and Knoxville. Chris grins, snatching the gift from your hand and viciously shaking the box.

“...I wonder what’s in there,” Chris lets out his hearty laugh as you snatch the box back.

“I guess you’ll have to wait because it’s not for you,”

“Y/N,” Spike announced. “The floor is yours,” You stick out your tongue at Pontius before getting up and addressing the room.

“As you all know, every year, I start secret Santa and set the bar extremely high,” You’re satisfied with the chuckles erupting in the room. “Bam, would you like to go first,” Again, everyone laughs at your subtle insult at Bam.

Bam simply rolls his eyes but can't contain the slight smile creeping up as he shoves his gift bag into Ryan’s chest.

“No way!” Ryan exclaims. “I got you, too,” Handing Bam his gift.

“How?! You rigged the game!” Steveo shouts, earning minimal groans of agreement.

“We all randomly picked from a hat!” Ryan bites back. “You were there!” The two open their presents. Ryan is a little more careful than Bam, who opted to rip the bag instead of peeking inside it like a sane individual. They both had somehow gifted each other Westchester memorabilia. Dunn a T-Shirt and Bam a hoodie.

Chris went next. Pretending to place the gift in your lap, he swerves at the last moment placing it in Johnny’s hands and placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“Chris may be a sex symbol, but I only have eyes for you,” Johnny states, chuckling at Chris’ face of disappointment.

Nearly everyone had received and opened their presents. You had lost track of the number of gifts opened because of the numerous cups of eggnog you had. A secret ingredient graciously added by Wee-Man. Of course, you were one of the few who still had a festive box in their lap. You’re pulled from your trance by Dave waving a small box in front of your slightly glossy-red eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” He says, returning to his spot next to Ehren and Preston. You stared at the red and green striped wrapping paper, excitedly anxious to unwrap it. Ehren decided he couldn't wait and shouted at you, receiving a head slap from Dave. Your grin widened at the gift—a framed photo of one of your first skits together; Urban Kayaking. You enthusiastically showed the group the picture—you and Dave helping Ehren out of a fountain he kayaked in somewhere in Los Angeles.

Finally, it was your turn to reveal your secret Santa, although it was already obvious who it was. Circling the room, you pretend to hand it to someone. Once they reach for it, you dramatically move on. Eventually, the gift lands in the lap of Spike Jonez. Shouting at him to open it, you stumble back to your spot on the floor.

“Woah. Is this…” He says, in shock.

“The first and only copy of the failed skate video we made,” You reply, giggling at his reaction. When you started working for Big Brother Magazine, Spike and you attempted to make a skate video. However, you failed to make any of the skate tricks. The video finished as a compilation of you eating shit for an hour and eventually scrapped.

“Y/N, where did you even get the footage to make it into a DVD?” He asks, genuinely confused. As far as he knew, he lost the camera with the footage years ago.

“That is classified,” You say, poorly winking at Tremaine, who had stolen the camera from Spike after an argument.

As the group dispersed into smaller batches, Bam quickly grabbed your hand, pushing Dunn and Ehren away, who wanted to follow.

“Oh, I see what he’s doing,” Says Ehren, catching the attention of Knoxville.

“Should we tell him?” Ryan inquires.

“No, I think Knox’s got it,” Adds Chris. The three men snicker as Johnny makes his way to an unbeknownst Bam.

“Y/N, notice where we are?” Bam asks, hoping you’d look up on you’re own.

“The doorway?”

He huffs, gradually losing his patience with you. “Yes, but look—”

“Bam, Jeff needs you,” Johnny interrupts, slightly pushing him away from you.

Bam rolls his eyes, telling you not to move, and mumbling curses towards Jeff and Knoxville.

Johnny’s fixed expression is replaced by his signature smile once he sees you. “Jeff doesn't need him,”

You playfully hit his chest, flustered by his antics. “You did that on purpose, didn't you?!”

Tilting his sunglasses so you can see his eyes, he leans forward, whispering. “Bam’s been trying to get you over here all evening,” Thinking his statement is a joke, you giggle but find no hints of comedy in his eyes.

“What’s so special about a doorway?”

Now it's Knoxville’s turn to laugh. You could be so ditzy. That’s what hanging out with a bunch of jackasses all day-every day does to a person. Regardless, Johnny liked you all the same. He softly grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up, and that's when you saw it—mistletoe. You couldn't help but grin widely—a rose tint emerging on your cheeks.

“You do know what a mistletoe means, or do I also have to explain that to you,” He teases, enjoying how you roll your eyes and softy punch his chest. You’re quick to shut him up by pulling him into a kiss way too heated for the “work” setting. Unfortunately, the romance temporarily fizzles with gasps and shouts from Bam.

“They’re together?!”

“Yes! Everyone knew except you,” Dunn replies, slapping the top of his friend's head.

“Why does Knoxville get everything?! Christmas is about giving to others!”

—

Merry Christmas from Jackass

TAGLIST:

@asskickedbygirl @captainboomaray @morbidxmagic @spoookyberry

TAGLIST FORM

A/N: I hope you all have a wonderful holiday.

#jackass #bam margera #johnny knoxville #ryan dunn #viva la bam #jackass tumblr #cky #danger ehren #dave england #wee man #steve o #chris pontius #preston lacy #jackass fic #jackass x reader #johnny knoxville x reader #jackass headcanons

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queenlua · 2 years

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this dude’s wikipedia entry is the most buckwild nonsense i’ve seen all week

ok, you know you’re in for a good time when this

and this

are the first two things you see, right?

tl;dr, John R. Brinkley was the early 1900s version of quack-doctor-meets-Rush-Limbaugh; his big thing was these goofy surgeries to restore male verility by implanting them with goat testicles. which is extremely funny except for the part where people died!

normally THAT would be the craziest shit a dude had going on, and yet—

well, okay, first, let’s hear about the dude’s dad:

Brinkley senior's first marriage was annulled because he was underage.[3] After he reached adulthood, he married four more times, and outlived each of his young wives.

five marriages! holy shit. was the dad poisoning these women or...

anyway, Brinkley himself has a similarly messy love life. for instance, here’s one way to handle a divorce:

Sally filed for divorce and child support, but after two months of payments, Brinkley kidnapped his daughter and fled with her to Canada. Sally Brinkley, unable to obtain an extradition order from Canada, dismissed her suit for alimony and child support, allowing Brinkley to return to Chicago with the child.

In Memphis, Brinkley met 21-year-old Minerva Telitha "Minnie" Jones, a friend of Crawford's and the daughter of a local physician. On August 23, 1913, after a four-day courtship,[14] Brinkley and Jones married at the Peabody Hotel, even though he was still married to Sally Brinkley. Minnie and John Brinkley honeymooned in Kansas City, Denver, Pocatello and Knoxville. Brinkley was arrested in Knoxville and extradited to Greenville where he was put in jail for practicing medicine without a license and for writing bad checks.[13] Brinkley told the sheriff that it was all Crawford's fault, and gave investigators enough information that they were able to arrest Crawford in Pocatello. The two former partners met again in jail.[13]

imagine your OTP...

in addition to all the goat gland transplants Brinkley was doing, he started concurrently running a radio show, which sounds like such a DELIGHTFULLY mixed bag of material:

Brinkley spoke for hours on end each day on the radio, primarily promoting his goat gland treatments. He variously cajoled, shamed and appealed to men's (and women's) egos, and to their desire to be more sexually active. In between Brinkley's own advertisements, his new station featured a variety of entertainment including military bands, French lessons, astrological forecasts, storytelling and exotica such as native Hawaiian songs, and American roots music including old-time string band, gospel and early country.[32]

life before podcasts...

also, it’s kind of interesting to see an early predecessor of the whole “truth is paywalled but the lies are free” phenomenon here:

Fishbein's interest in putting Brinkley out of business grew and he wrote more articles featuring stories about people who had grown sick or died after seeing Brinkley. But the [American Medical Association] journal's readership was mostly restricted to other doctors, while Brinkley's radio station poured directly into peoples' homes every day.

eventually, Brinkley’s empire of lies collapses, and good riddance, but also i gotta admire his absolute determination to keep going anyway:

Brinkley reacted to losing his medical and broadcast licenses by launching a bid to become the Governor of Kansas, a political position that would enable him to appoint his own members to the medical board and thus regain his right to practice medicine in the state.

“i would simply become the government,” said he

and he goddamn near succeeded, too, if it weren’t for a rude twist of fate:

Three days before the election, the Kansas attorney general (who had prosecuted Brinkley before the medical board) announced that the rules surrounding write-in candidates had changed, and that the doctor's name could only be written in one specific way for the vote to count (as J. R. Brinkley). As a write-in candidate, he received more than 180,000 votes (29.5 percent of the vote) and lost to Harry Hines Woodring, later Secretary of War in the cabinet of President Franklin D. Roosevelt.[42] An article published at the time in The Des Moines Register estimated that between 30,000 and 50,000 ballots were disqualified in this manner. Woodring later admitted that had those votes counted, Brinkley would have won.[43][44]

anyway, he gets so big mad after all this that he moves to the Mexican border, where the Mexican government is VERY eager to help him build the Most Enormous Fuck-You Radio Station In History:

The Mexican government, eager to get even with its northern neighbors for dividing up North America's radio frequencies without giving any to Mexico, granted Brinkley a 50,000-watt radio license and construction began on XER, his new "border blaster" across the bridge from Del Rio in Villa Acuña, Coahuila (since renamed Ciudad Acuña).[16] As construction got underway, Fishbein and the U.S. State Department desperately searched for a way to shut Brinkley down. [...]

Though Brinkley's American radio license had been revoked, XER's signal was so strong that it could still be heard in Kansas.[49] In 1932, the Mexican government allowed Brinkley to increase his wattage to 150,000 watts. Several months later, Brinkley was allowed to increase to one million watts, "making XER far and away the most powerful radio station on the planet" that, on a clear night, could be heard as far away as Canada. According to accounts of the time, the signal was so strong that it turned on car headlights, made bedsprings hum, and caused broadcasts to bleed into telephone conversations.[50] Local residents claimed to not need a radio to hear Brinkley's station; with ranchers claiming that they received it through their metal fences and in their dental appliances.[51]

jfc, USA, maybe you should’ve fuckin been nicer to Mexico is all i’m sayin

anyway he’s big rich for a while but then he dies penniless with a bunch of counts of mail fraud against him, so. about what you’d expect.

(big thanks to this rando blog post for alerting me to this dude’s existence, lol)

#in conclusion Kansas was always Like That #honestly i probably shoulda just screencapped the bigass radio bit and put that front and center but #it's such a banquet of goofiness. i couldn't choose

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kp777 · 1 year

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By Jackie Fortier

NPR

April 19, 2023

Lost careers. Broken marriages. Dismissed and disbelieved by family and friends.

These are some of the emotional and financial struggles long COVID patients face years after their infection. Physically, they are debilitated and in pain: unable to walk up the stairs, focus on a project, or hold down a job. Facing the end of the federal public health emergency in May, many people experiencing lingering effects of the virus say they feel angry and abandoned by policymakers eager to move on.

"Patients are losing hope," says Shelby Hedgecock, a self-described long COVID survivor from Knoxville, Tennessee, who now advocates for patients like herself. "We feel swept under the rug."

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention estimated in March that 6% of U.S. adults, or about 16 million, were experiencing long COVID, or ongoing health problems that continue or emerge after a bout of COVID.

Researchers estimate that 1.6% of U.S. adults, or about 4 million, have symptoms that have significantly reduced their ability to carry out day-to-day activities.

While patients are no longer contagious, their health issues can stretch on and affect almost every system in the body. More than 200 symptoms and conditions, including fatigue and depression, are linked to long COVID, says Dr. Linda Geng, who treats patients at Stanford Medicine's Post-Acute COVID-19 Syndrome Clinic.

The severity and duration of long COVID vary. Some people recover in a few weeks, while a smaller number have debilitating and lingering health issues. There is currently no test, treatment, or cure. There's not even an accepted medical definition.

"When you don't have any tests that show that anything's abnormal, it can be quite invalidating and anxiety-provoking," Geng says.

The physical and emotional toll has left some feeling hopeless. A 2022 study of adults in Japan and Sweden found that those with post-COVID conditions were more than twice as likely to develop mental health issues, including depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress, as people without them.

"One of my friends committed suicide in May of 2021," Hedgecock says. "She had a mild COVID infection, and she progressively had medical complications continuously pop up, and it just got so bad that she decided to end her life."

In Los Angeles County, where Hedgecock lived when she fell ill, 46% of adults who contracted COVID were fully recovered a month later, but the rest — a majority — reported one or more continuing symptoms, according to a 675-patient study by the University of Southern California's COVID-19 Pandemic Research Center.

#long covid #medical care #mental health #covid 19

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climatecalling · 1 year

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Shortly after the New Year, I was fired from Oak Ridge National Laboratory after urging fellow scientists to take action on climate change. At the American Geophysical Union meeting in December, my fellow climate scientist Peter Kalmus and I unfurled a banner that read, “Out of the lab & into the streets.” In the few seconds before the banner was ripped from our hands, we implored our colleagues to use their leverage as scientists to wake the public up to the dying planet. ... Then, on Jan. 3, Oak Ridge, the laboratory outside Knoxville where I had worked as an associate scientist for one year, terminated my employment. I am the first earth scientist I know of to be fired for climate activism. I fear I will not be the last. ... Established scientific institutions will not even support scientists interrupting a meeting for the climate. I’m all for decorum, but not when it will cost us the earth. ... Since I locked that first chain around my waist, I have been arrested three times in nonviolent actions. ... But I was motivated to continue because these scientist-led political campaigns have attracted positive media attention and contributed to major policy wins. ... Within a month of our actions, the Podemos party of Spain submitted a request to the European Commission to take measures to reduce the use of private planes. When scientists take action, people listen. ... Great experiments push at the boundaries of knowledge and propriety. They are risky, volatile, blasphemous. But when they work, the world changes. Scientific institutions should support activism and advocacy, especially by experts.

No paywall: https://web.archive.org/web/20230215091951/https://www.nytimes.com/2023/01/10/opinion/scientist-fired-climate-change-activism.html

#climate crisis #climate activism #activism #scientist rebellion #direct action

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marykatewiles · 1 year

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Now that I've reached my Hobbit Houses of America funding goal (🤩!) I've added a stretch goal - if I make $30K before the end of the campaign Sunday, I'll add an extensive episode to my season all about Ancient Lore Village in Knoxville, Tennessee - I'll stay in every room (they are all themed differently!) and share details about each one, and I'll feature all the activities they offer at the village as well. It looks like an amazing place and I'm so excited to work with them if we hit the goal!

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/mkwiles/hobbit-houses-of-america

#hobbit houses of america #ancient lore village #mary kate wiles #kickstarter #stretch goal #lord of the rings #hobbits

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thegettingbyp2 · 2 years

Note

hi!! I’d like to put in a request where you go to a fall festival with johnny knoxville. like you dress up, do haunted mazes, apple bobbing, face paint, play games, etc. thank you!

Autumn Leaves

Autumn was your favourite time of year. You loved how it was cold enough that you could wrap up in a scarf and coat but at the same time it wasn’t unbearably cold. You loved lazy Autumn afternoons where you and your boyfriend would either snuggle up in bed or on the sofa and watched Halloween films; every year having the same debate as to whether or not The Nightmare Before Christmas was a Halloween film or not. But most of all, you loved going to the Autumn fairs.

Every year, you and Johnny would go to as many Autumn fairs as you could. You would both wrap up warm, Johnny finally breaking that black coat of his out that you always loved him in and as soon as you stepped through the archway made of pumpkins, it was like the two of you turned back into kids, wanting to do as much as you possibly could.

Hand in hand, you and Johnny were wandering around the fair, wondering where to start as you checked out everything that the fair had to offer this year. You would both tug at each others hands to get the others attention when you would see something you liked the look of; you getting excited when you saw the apple bobbing and Johnny getting excited when he saw the haunted maze.

‘So, what do you want to do first, doll?’ Johnny asked, looking down at you as he swung your arms between the two of you.

‘I want to go and carve pumpkins,’ you said with a cheeky grin, knowing that’s the first thing you did every year. You both made your way over to the booth where there were loads of people already carving pumpkins and Johnny went to find two of the biggest ones while you went to grab all the tools you were going to need before you went to find an empty table to work at.

Doing a task as messy as pumpkin carving with someone like Johnny meant there was absolutely no way you weren’t getting messy yourselves. ‘PJ,’ you gasped as Johnny brushed his hand along your cheek, smearing some of the inside of the pumpkin all over your cheek, which only made him laugh.

‘What? I’m not allowed to admire my beautiful girlfriend?’ he asked, mock-innocently, the smirk on his face giving him away. In retaliation, you scooped your own hand full of the stringy orange mess and threw it in his direction, bursting out in laugher as it landed on top of his head and dropped down onto his shoulder. From there, it caused Johnny to rush at you, hands full of pumpkin as he wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you up.

‘PJ, put me down!’ you protested half-heartedly through your giggles. After you had been released from your boyfriends arms, you both finally managed to finish working on your pumpkins, revealing them to each other on the count of three. Johnny had carved the Jackass logo (surprisingly well) and he laughed before his eyes softened when he saw that you had carved both of your initials inside a heart on yours, leaning over to kiss your cheek, grimacing when he could taste the pumpkin he had spread on your skin earlier.

After Johnny had taken both pumpkins back to the car, you both decided to go apple bobbing, an activity that every year, Johnny made sure you lost at. As soon as your heads would dip into the water, Johnny was there knocking his head into yours, forcing your head away from the apples. When you knocked your head back into his, Johnny let out a laugh that quickly had him throwing his head out of the water, spluttering.

‘You trying to drown me sweetheart?’ he asked, mid-laugh while you kept your head in the bucket, using the time Johnny spent with his head out of the water to sink your teeth into an apple and pull your head out of the water, grinning at Johnny around the apple. Johnny’s mouth fell open, impressed. ‘Well, aren’t you sneaky,’ he said, stepping towards you and pulling the apple out of your mouth.

‘I learnt from the best,’ you replied, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

‘I think it’s time for my favourite part of the fair,’ Johnny mumbled against your lips, pulling you close to him and brushing a wet strand of hair behind your ear. You groaned slightly and dropped your head onto Johnny’s chest, knowing exactly what he was talking about; the haunted maze.

Pretty much as soon as you were inside the maze, Johnny disappeared, leaving you to fend for yourself. You did enjoy going through the haunted maze but everything made you jump and your situation wasn’t helped by the fact your boyfriend absolutely loved to use that against you.

‘PJ, I’m going to kill you,’ you said as you heard a rustle in a bush and Johnny’s infamous giggle. All of a sudden, a pair of arms shot out from the bush and Johnny pulled you into the bush where he was hiding. ‘Every year you do this,’ you said, lightly slapping his chest as you got your breath back.

‘Sorry, sweetheart,’ Johnny said, smiling down at you, lowering his lips to your neck. ‘It’s just so easy to make you jump. How about we wind you back down, huh?’

‘This is going to do the exact opposite,’ you moaned lightly as you tilted your neck back, giving Johnny more access.

‘Well, in that case, we can wind you back down when we get home,’ he mumbled against your skin as you both crashed to the ground.

As soon as you both left the maze, both out of breath and clothes a bit off-kilter, you headed over to the coffee cart and you ordered a pumpkin spiced latte and Johnny ordered a plain coffee as you sat on the hay bales, leaning on each other as you watched everyone else milling about around the fair.

‘I love coming here every year,’ you sighed as you let your head rest on Johnny’s shoulder as his arm sat around your waist, his head on top of yours.

‘Me too. And one day, we can bring our kids here and start a family tradition,’ Johnny said absentmindedly as he took a sip from his coffee. You pulled your head away from his shoulder to look at him. ‘What?’ he asked when he noticed that you were staring at him.

‘You really think about that kind of stuff? About us having kids?’

‘Yeah, all the time. Don’t you?’ he asked, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world to him.

You looked at him softly, a small smile playing on your lips at the thought of this man wanting to spend the rest of his life with you. ‘Yeah I do too,’ you said, snuggling back into him.

#johnny knoxville imagine #johnny knoxville #johnny knoxville x reader #jackass

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whipplefilter · 5 days

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Bristol [2] 2024

I'd been entertaining these deep fears all week (or for the last two weeks) that the fates would align against my favor and both the 5 and 11 would manage to knock themselves out of the playoffs in the Round of 16. And it would feel really really stupid because the 5 came in with 2429402 points and, despite his penchant for incurring Biblical retributions, I maintain that Denny Hamlin is the best active driver in NASCAR.

Of the many reasons I'd never hack it in NASCAR, my being risk averse and perpetually glass-half-empty is a big one, so I spent an entire 2.5 hours of this race TEMPESTUOUSLY anxious--anxious dinner! anxious tea! anxious sewing-buttons-back-onto-things! anxious dishes!--until the were fewer laps remaining than the 21 was down and the 5 locked in. I was like, I don't care if Kyle Larson swept both stages and is running at almost a 5-second lead over P2. What reason have I to trust that!! The 5 should not be trusted!

And I was also like, okay, self, what if tonight could channel that Kyle Larson Knoxville energy. Knoxville Knoxville Knoxville KNOXVILLE. And then the 5 ran a perfect race and my insides are a chemical disaster zone regardless.

I always laugh when the booth mentions some very Hendrick-specific milestone or record--which they've done a lot this year on account of the 40th anniversary--because I feel like the only person who could possibly care about these niche accolades is Rick Hendrick, but Kyle "most laps ever led in a single race by any Hendrick driver" Larson seems so statistically unlikely on account of Jeff Gordon and Jimmie I'll allow it.

I'm sad for MTJ, but I hold out hope that he'll be able to pull a Kenseth and win a final-season race, even if he's out of the playoffs. And congrats to Daniel Suarez for rising from the ashes!

#thank you god #and kyle larson #and cliff daniels and the 5 pit crew #and *insert laundry list of sponsors that is somehow both incomplete and too long*#thank you bristol motor speedway #and goodnight moon #nascar #bristol 2024 #kyle larson #real racing

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storyshark2005 · 10 months

Note

Young Lex!

Thank you for the ask!! 💗I loved the idea of this fic, I wish I was actively working on it. But it's basically a Smallville AU, "Lex dies in 2008. Clark doesn't deal well. Flash forward to 2020 he finds a 15-yr old clone of Lex Luthor". So here's the opening scene!

May 2008 - Luthor Mansion Smallville, Ks

If you stayed on the roads, without cutting across Potter’s field, and then Sutton’s land, it was a two mile walk from the Kent Farm to the Luthor Mansion. Clark could make the run in less than a minute, and it was even faster to fly. But today, it would take him forty minutes.

He could, and maybe should, have taken the truck. But the sun was high and hot in the bluebird sky, the field grass was tall (green stalks with rusty brown fingers), and the air was filled with the sounds of Petefish’s tractor planting his back field along Elk Creek. It would be soybeans, since last year he’d planted corn. All of this filled the quiet minutes of the walk, and Clark thought of his father, of riding around on the tractor in his lap; he thought of his old favorite calf Cookie, her silky brown nose and the giant fans of her eyelashes. He thought of Lex. And then tried to push it away because in a few minutes, that would be all he could think about. The rest of the day was dedicated to slogging around the trenches of memory, dim and murky, and corrosively bitter. The air rumbles and Clark ambles off to the side of the road where the gravel is banked up; the road is narrow so he’s practically standing in the ditch when the silver Jeep Compass slows, crunching to a stop. “Can I give you a ride?” Lucas Luthor (or, Clark’s not sure what name he’s going by these days) squints through the lowered window. He hasn’t changed much, but he does look older; hair softer and a bit thinner, no gel. He’s softer in the face, too, less wary around the eyes. Clark kicks gravel over the toe of his boot. “I was gonna walk.” “I think Tess is already there. She’s probably waiting. She is. Clark can hear her, almost a mile away, speaking on her phone with a paper thin voice. Clark nods and goes around to the passenger door. The lock clicks over and he climbs in. The air conditioning is on low, and the car smells new. Probably a rental. “We just flew in last night. I left Amanda at the hotel, I figured... I dunno. I didn’t want to bring anybody. It didn’t seem right, I guess.” Clark nods, elbow propped in the open window as they crunch slowly along, not kicking up much dust. “Amanda’s my wife,” Lucas clarifies. Band of gold on his left hand, curled up under his temple. His right hand held the bottom of the wheel loosely, keeping the speedometer under forty; Clark wondered when that particular Luthorian impulse had evaporated, why it had stayed with Lex till the end, what it meant that it had. Probably nothing. “I dunno, it’s not like he’d care. It doesn’t...” It doesn’t matter. Clark stares out the window, at the first peek of the elm trees at the end of the drive. “We talked a lot, the past few years, you know. Not so much this year, actually. But the past few, we’d talk every month. Sometimes every week. He did a lot for me. Helped me get on my feet, kept Dad’s people away. He kept trying to move me around, but then I met Amanda in Knoxville, and I told him, I don’t give a fuck what Dad thinks he can try. I found the girl I’m going to spend the rest of my life with, I’m staying here. He told me she must be a hell of a girl. Asked if she had a sister.” He grins over at Clark, looks away when Clark doesn't summon a smile back. “Anyway. Thanks for coming today, Clark.” “It’s fine.” Clark has to clear his throat. He hasn’t talked a whole lot the past few days, except to his mother once, and Tess on the phone a couple of times; and then only barely, he’d mostly listened. “Just...want to get it over with.” “Right,” Lucas nods. “Yeah.” They turn into the driveway, and the elms stretch upward with the slow rise of the hill, the stony crown of the highest turret rising into view. The past becomes present.

#clex #smallville #lucas luthor #clark kent #lex luthor #tess mercer

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69bitterbeingz · 10 months

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IF YOU'RE GONNA BE DUMB || CH. 3

<- prev | next ->

DISCLAIMER: This is a reupload from my prev account! best to follow the fic through ao3 [linked below] to avoid any future issues PAIRINGS - johnny knoxville, bam margera, steve-o, chris pontius, ryan dunn x female reader WARNINGS - swearing, drinking, a little suggestive

ao3 version

In the end you didn’t make it to the bar, and apparently that was a controversial decision.

You didn’t actually remember when you passed out last night, but you woke up on your sofa at 11am, disoriented and exhausted. This had to be the earliest you’ve woken up in months , must have knocked out early because of the blow to your head. Through the bleary just-woke-up haze, you heard activity coming from your kitchen, making your ears perk. Someone was in your kitchen? You sure as hell didn’t bring anyone back from that shoot yesterday…

“Mila…?” You guessed.

“Nah, Dan.”

Yay, not an intruder! Your bones creaked miserably as you went from the sofa to the kitchen, but you always feel like that first thing in the morning. Dan was your drummer and a friend from secondary school - long black hair, odd braids twisted into his locks here and there. His hazel eyes always looked sunken, like he never caught a wink of sleep, but his slightly tanned skin hid it well. Like any metal artist, he had countless piercings and tattoos - you were always jealous of his coin slot mod in his ear, but never had the balls to get it done, even when he offered to give you one himself. Despite his appearance, Dan was incredibly gentle and soft spoken, but people always thought him some kind of tough guy . Maybe his stature didn’t help. At this moment in time, Dan was waiting for his tea to steep.

“I would’ve made you a coffee, but I didn’t think you’d be awake for another few hours.” He excused himself, his geordie accent especially thick [or maybe it just felt that way after a week of not seeing him]. You shrugged, rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, I’ll just go get one later.” You leaned against the counter, looking around for his partner. “Where’s Mila?”

“He went to bed as soon as we got back, you know what he’s like.”

Mila, lead guitar, Dan’s beloved [ick][just kidding]. Since Dan is a couple years older than you, he actually finished university, unlike you, which is where he met Mila. Mila was more of a pretty boy, blonde hair pulled back into a short spiky ponytail, with deep brown eyes and a permanent scowl. He was a little taller than Dan, covered in scars and homemade tattoos & piercings. It seems like every night of drinking he comes back with a new one of the three - you tell him he’s shit at all of them, but he’s nothing if not stubborn. Guess he’s a little like you in terms of his brash personality and ‘ fuck you I can totally do it’ attitude. Dan’s even offered to give the guy self defense lessons, but he’s too proud to take them. Idiot.

“By the way–” Dan’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Your phone was ringing earlier, few times really. Dunno who’s trying to get hold of you but you should probably ring back.”

Oh?

Before you could forget, you scurried back into the living room and picked up your flip-phone, checking your missed calls. Two from the same guy, one from last night and one this morning - Chris. Did you remember to text him? You sucked the air through your teeth, probably not. You hit redial and fell back onto the sofa; as Chris picked up, Dan shuffled in the room to nose into your conversation.

“Hey, just woke up.”

“ Morning, just checking in. How’s the head?”

“Good, no complaints.” You leaned forward, rubbing your forehead. “Look, sorry I didn’t turn up to the bar last night.”

“ You abandoned us, I was hoping you’d show up.” You could hear his puppy dog eyes. “ Bam said you were wussing out, but he forgot about it a few beers in. I think he’s bitter you ditched him.”

You scoffed, a little unamused, a little flattered. “Brat. Whatever, I wasn’t gonna drink in case it killed my brain. I stand by that decision.”

“ If your head’s better then come out tonight! C’mooooon, you owe us for last night!”

The anxious side of you wanted you to be cautious, maybe not go out for a few more nights just to make sure you don’t do any lasting damage. But where’s the fun in that?

“Alright fine, you’ve convinced me.”

“ Yes!! Awesome, I’ll text you the address for the place, we’ll meet at 7! We should go clubbing after, too.”

“Sure, 7pm, got it.”

“ Okay okay, I gotta go but I’ll see you tonight!”

He hung up pretty immediately after that, and putting your phone back down was Dan’s cue.

“...Have I missed something? You don’t have friends.”

“What about you guys? And Valo?” You defended, but he wasn’t convinced.

“So who was that…? Did you actually put yourself out there?”

“Fine…” You fiddled with your hands. “I went to Ville’s show a couple weeks back, and he had one of his friends backstage, a guy called Bam.”

As soon as you said Bam’s name, Dan’s attention was grabbed.

“Bam Margera?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You know the guy?”

“Yeah, he was in those CKY tapes I showed you ages ago!”

“Oh…” You trailed off. “...I thought I recognised him from that new MTV show.”

“Go on!”

“Fine, anyway, we drank all night, went clubbing, got kicked out and a little beat up, then told me to come to the Jackass set. Did that yesterday and met like… 5 other guys. Even Tony was there.” You looked up at the ceiling as you tried to remember the name of the other guy you met. “I met the director too… Tremaine I think.”

Dan’s jaw damn near dropped .

“Jeff Tremaine? Big Brother Jeff Tremaine? Bloody hell if I knew that stupid show had Tremaine behind it I would’ve watched it.”

You raised your eyebrow. “Y’know, I don’t remember you being such a skater boy mega fan? I thought you were just super into the magazines.”

“Eh…” Dan sheepishly looked down at his mug of tea, drumming his fingers over the porcelain. “...Mila’s a bit of a skater boy.”

“Mila’s whatever the fuck he thinks is cool that week. He’s a chameleon.” You tossed your phone aside and kicked up your legs to recline on the sofa. “Last I checked he was a 'true punk', his words.” Dan didn’t respond, just switched on the TV and started flicking through channels. The mindless slog of the day had begun, much earlier than you were used to.

“So which of those five guys called you?” He kept the conversation going since clearly your brain hadn't started functioning properly yet. You grinned as Bunny’s face popped into your head.

“Guy called Chris Pontius, he’s sweet, likes dressing in little bikinis. He invited me out to a bar, so… guess that’s what I’m doing tonight.”

Dan smiled at you, eventually settling on Comedy Central and taking a sip of his tea. “It’s good to see you getting out the house, y’know? Glad you made some friends.”

You scoffed, hanging your head over the arm of the sofa. “Man, way to make me sound fuckin’ pathetic. Thanks mum.”

“What are you gonna do for the next 9 hours?”

Christ. 9 fucking hours? No way were you waiting that long. With a huff, you swung your legs off of the sofa to stand up, pocketing your phone on the way.

“Shower, then I’m sleeping for 8 more hours.”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

You were mostly kidding about sleeping that long, but lo and behold, 8 hours later you woke up to your cell phone ringing. Hazy and bleary eyed, you patted around for the little device lost in the sea of your duvet. Lucky for whoever was bothering you, you found it before it rang out.

“Unh, hello…?”

“ Did you just wake up? It’s fuckin’ 7pm.”

“Bam…?”

“ Get your ass out of bed, we’re picking you up. Where do you live?”

“...Uh, my mother told me not to give my address to strange men.”

“ Haha, c’mon already we’re already driving.”

“Fine, fine.”

As you relayed your address, you could hear general commotion in the background, the incessant snickering of mischievous daredevils. He hung up pretty immediately after, leaving you to get your shit together in time for their arrival. At least you had the good mind to shower before you knocked out, cut down your prep time by a solid hour. By the time the doorbell was ringing, you only just finished getting ready. You gave yourself a once over in the mirror - an old black slip dress with lace trim, ripped-to-shit fishnets, chunky demonias and a red leather jacket. To top it off, you had a silver ring on every finger [you remember Dan once said they were like knuckle dusters]. It was about time you left, if those assholes keep jamming the doorbell like that it’d break. Mila and Dan were cuddled up on the sofa when you ran down the stairs, almost tripping and eating shit when you stepped on your wedge platform wrong. They both waved you off as you ran for the door.

“Have fun.”

“Be back before 11, young lady!”

“Fuck off, Mila.” You yelled back, throwing open the door to see Bam about to spam the bell again. You grabbed his wrist before he got the chance. “Don’t.”

“Nice to see you, sleeping beauty. Let’s go.”

Bam dragged you out of your driveway to the beat up Toyota Tacoma parked on the street, Chris waving at you from the driver seat. He stuck his head out the rolled down window to greet you with a goofy smile. “Wow, you look exhausted, your head still good?”

In response, you smiled and knocked on the side of your head. “Good as it’ll ever be.”

“Awesome! Go on, get in!” But as soon as the back seat door swung open, you noticed a problem.

“Uh. Chris there’s only space for three back here.”

“No way, you can totally get four in.” Steve-O insisted, but you doubted it, it wasn’t exactly the biggest car in the world. Sensing your resistance, Bam clapped a hand on your shoulder.

“Guess somebody’s gotta sit on somebody else’s lap.”

His suggestion triggered everyone to start giggling like shitty teenagers, but like hell were you agreeing to what he was thinking of. Wordlessly, you pushed Bam aside and sat next to Steve. At first, Bam seemed confused, but he caught on when you patted your thighs.

“Get your ass in here, Margera.”

And that had them cackling . Johnny was holding his stomach in the front seat like it was the funniest shit ever, but he didn’t have the privilege of seeing Bam fidget and blush. You get why they pick on each other now, it was kinda fun to watch someone squirm.

“Seriously?” He whined, and you nodded with a smirk. Defeated, hesitant and knowing he’d never hear the end of it, he climbed in and perched in your lap, having to uncomfortably crane his head to accommodate the low ceiling. “I can’t believe this shit.”

“Smile!”

“What?!”

Bam had just a second to react before Ryan snapped a picture on a throwaway kodak.

“Dude, come on!” Bam hissed, but you bumped your leg up to get him to shut up.

“It was your idea, Bammy.” The childish name you gave him didn’t help the red on his cheeks, though there wasn’t much he could really do other than hope the ride passed quickly. You screwed your nose up as you took note of the car’s smell.

“Aw Christ, it fuckin’ stinks in here.” You complained, and Johnny snickered.

“Probably Chris’ jockstraps in the back.”

“His–!” You kicked the back of Chris’ seat, making him laugh. “Why the fuck do you keep your jockstraps in here?”

Chris tried to explain through his giggles, “I fucking live here, man!”

“You live in your car…? Guess the smell makes sense then.”

Mercifully, the ride to the bar was pretty quick, though a lot more eventful than it should be. As fun as these guys are, you’re not sure you ever want to be in an enclosed space with them ever again. Bam was first out [can’t imagine why he was so desperate to get out], followed by the rest of you. The bar they had chosen looked like a pretty hole-in-the-wall place, kinda seedy, but you could get behind that. The music was so loud you could hear it from outside, thank god they were playing something good. As you followed the group in, an arm suddenly threw itself around your shoulders and drew you into a tall body.

“You ever been here before?” Johnny asked, raising his voice so he had a chance of being heard over the music. You shook your head, and he smiled. “Don’t worry, you’ll get acquainted real soon.” For whatever reason, the way he said that sent a shiver down your spine, and when he left your side to join the others at the bar you felt… disappointed. Dammit, stop thinking like that, you barely met this guy. You shook the feeling away and joined them as well, taking a seat on the other side of Chris as they ordered a round of tequila shots. He was quick to replace Johnny, throwing his arm over you and pulling you in close.

“You guys don’t start easy, huh?” You asked, the shots already set down in front of the six of you with a bowl of lime wedges and a salt shaker. Chris snorted, squeezing your shoulder.

“We started hours ago. C’mon, set up.” He offered you the salt shaker, so you smiled and licked the side of your hand. On went the salt, then you passed it down the line; once Ryan was done at the end of that line, everyone raised their shot glass, and you fumbled to follow along.

“ Prost! ” Steve-O cheered, then down the hatch. You all followed suit, quickly sucking the lime after as you cringed at the tequila taste. You never liked spirits all that much - you couldn’t get over that perfume taste - but hell, you’ll drink whatever’s set in front of you. Again, Chris ended up leaning against you, a dopey grin on his face.

“You’re one of us now, [Y/n].” There was a boyish giddiness in his voice that made you smile, and you glanced back at the others, Bam already smacking Dunn’s arm for god knows what. There was an air of comradery among them, one you didn’t quite feel at the shoot yesterday, but you definitely felt it now. It was infectious, too, encouraging you to flag down the bartender.

“Can I get six kamikazes?” The bartender nodded, quick to set up the shots. Johnny playfully punched your shoulder, stealing away your attention.

“Ain’t that sweet? Buying a round for a buncha guys you just met?”

“Actually they’re for me.”

Johnny barked out a laugh, while Bam booed and said something along the lines of ‘fucking alcoholic’. Six more shots in your hands, and Johnny nudged you with a look. Was it your turn to cheers? You only knew one interesting one. So, you raised your shot glass, the others following like before, and with a tilt of your glass you called:

“ Payehali! ”

Down the hatch. Kamikazes are way easier to stomach. Steve-O leaned forward to look past Johnny. “What does that mean?”

“God knows, some Russian guy taught me that a couple years back.”

“I should remember that for the next time Dimitry comes out with us.” Johnny commented, some murmurs of agreement as you guessed that was yet another man you’re yet to meet. Things continued in that fashion: a round of shots, somebody gets to show off some cool cheers, rinse and repeat. After 5 rounds, the group started to splinter - some took an interest in darts, some in pool - for now, you were trying to aim a dart while your head felt full of cotton.

“Just throw it already!” Bam called out, beer bottle rim pressed to his lips. You scowled, waving him off.

“ Shuddup! I’m seein’ double here…”

“Already?! Christ, you’re a fucking lightweight.”

“You can’t talk.” Johnny cut in, cracking a smile when Bam glared at him.

“What’re you talking about?? I’m not a goddamn lightweight.”

“You’re just as drunk as her. Look, you’re wobbling like a fawn fresh out the womb.” He cackled as he pushed Bam’s shoulder, enough to throw him off balance. All the background noise seemed to blend together as you focused all your brain power on that goddamn dart board. One eye closed and tongue poking out the side of your mouth, you decided fuck it and just tossed it. The dart lodged itself in the cork near the bottom, but you victoriously fist bumped nonetheless.

“What’re you celebrating for?” Bam asked, stumbling forward and practically crashing into your shoulder. Rolling your eyes, you jabbed his shoulder.

“It hit the board, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, unlike the last 5 darts.”

“So? a win’s a win.”

Bam downed the rest of his beer and plucked out the dart from the board. “Watch ‘n learn.”

Meanwhile, Johnny was more interested in watching you than Bam, leaning against a table with a beer in hand. You stood back with him, shoulders nearly brushing, and he smiled down at you.

“You seem comfortable.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I mean ’m half pissed so…” You glanced at up at him then back at your glass, swirling the liquid.

“Just mentioning it, you seemed a little stand-offish yesterday, nice to see you loosen up.”

“Hard not to with a gin and tonic.”

Johnny nodded, took a swig then set down his bottle. “You know you put on a great show yesterday. I was a li’l concerned when you took that hit, you had this crazed look in your eye. Still surprised you got back up with no helmet.” Ohhh yeah, the ramp. You still remembered the buzz in your chest as you stared up at the sky, blood pumping like never before. You shrugged, sipping your drink.

“I don’t know, adrenaline felt pretty cool, plus I wanted to show up Margera.” You clumsily motioned to Bam with your glass, spilling some of your drink over the side. On cue, he yelled ‘fuck!’, the dart just missing the board.

“I win, loser buys me a drink.” Johnny grinned. “[Y/n], that’s you.”

“Fuck this, gonna go find Ryan.” With that, Bam was gone. Johnny followed you to the bar where the conversation continued.

“We got some great footage - the wipeout, the way you bombed into the lake.” He laughed as he thought back on it, grabbing his new beer. For a moment, you were too focused on his smile to pay attention to what he was saying. “By the way, Jeff wanted to ask if we could put it in the show, but you disappeared.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Oh… sure, I don’ care.”

“I didn’t think you would.”

Usually, the booze would make it much easier for you to talk by this point, but somehow Johnny still made you nervous. What about him made you so nervous…?

“You should come by more often, ‘specially if you pull more shit like that. Impulse is welcome ‘round here.” Maybe it was the drink making your hearing weird, but you swear his southern drawl was a lot thicker 6 drinks deep. Then you realised that he was inviting you back to set, maybe even accepting you into his crazy little group. Though a part of you was apprehensive, a lot more of you was excited, like you had accomplished something. When did you suddenly get so hung up on someone else's approval? You’ve never really been one to want to be included… you guess the drink makes you vulnerable. Or at least you preferred that excuse.

“Fuck it, I’m down! I’ll do anything if it’s fun.” You chuckled to yourself, and knocked back the rest of your drink.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He got up from his stool, nudging your shoulder with his cold bottle. “‘M going for a piss.”

And off he goes; like hell you were waiting around on your own. You scanned the bar for any of the other familiar faces, then spotted Chris and Steve-O at the pool table. Unsteady on your feet, you abandoned the bar and crossed over to the dingy corner as Steve-O polished the end of his pool cue.

“[Y/n]!” Chris greeted, pulling you in with an arm around your shoulders. “Play a game with us!”

“You any good at pool?” Steve-O asked, and you shrugged.

“Decent.”

“Good enough, here.” He handed you the long cue, almost smacking you across the face with it. Ryan ended up joining the game on Chris’ side, but somehow you and Steve-O won, despite you barely remembering the rules and confusing them with snooker rules half the time. You and Steve whooped, clinking your beer bottles and basking in the glory.

“Fuck darts, I’m playing pool for the rest of my life!”

Steve-O pointed at the guys on the other side of the table, slamming back their drinks like their lives depended on it. “Loser shoves the cue up his ass.”

Ryan immediately left, while Chris giggled and twirled his hair. “Maybe if you take me out to dinner first!”

“Chris, I’ll give you five bucks if you do it.” You were only half joking.

“Five bucks?”

“Yeah, for the whole thing.”

“ The–” Chris was howling at just the idea of it. “The whole thing? Up my ass?”

“C’mon Chris, I’ve seen you take more.” Steve-O couldn’t stop grinning like a maniac, and soon it was suggested another round was gotten in before the next game. Then another, and another. Eventually, you never did get around to another game. You lost count of how many drinks later it was, but everyone got kicked out for unruly conduct - it was either because Bam was trying to pick a fight with a random drunk or because Chris dropped his pants to get started on that pool cue. Either way, you arguing with security didn’t help anyone’s case. At least they didn’t care enough to take your beers, that would be tragic.

“ Fuckin’ asshole .” You hissed under your breath, and Bam pushed you.

“You’ve gotta stop fucking doing that.”

“Whatever, let’s just go clubbing! It was getting boring anyway.” Everyone seemed to agree with Pontius, and despite barely seeing straight, you thought it was a great idea too. You all paraded down the street, loudly singing a Johnny Cash song, generally being a public nuisance. Somebody stumbled into you, and next thing you know, Ryan was next to you.

"You really kicked our asses at pool, huh?"

"I don't know how, swear that was a total flook, didn't know what I was fuckin' doing." You chuckled to yourself as you raised your beer to your lips, then realised you'd already drank it all so dropped it on the pavement. "Barely saw you for most of the night."

"Yeah, Bam needs a lotta attention." The blonde looked you up and down, then nodded his head towards Bam down the front of the group. "Y'know he doesn't shut up about you?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Honestly it's fuckin' annoying. Makes me think I'm missing out or something."

Without thinking, you blurted out, "Gimme your number 'n I can keep you clued in." Ryan was clearly taken aback - after all, kind of forward for someone he just met - but you barely noticed, to wasted to pick up on pretty much anything at this point. He seemed to hesitate, but ultimately held out his hand for you to hand your phone over.

"...Alright, what the hell."

It was quick; luckily, he was marginally less drunk than the rest of them, so small buttons weren't really an issue at that time. When he handed back the device, you gave him a wide grin, like you'd tricked him into something. With that, he nodded at you and went ahead to join his best friend. You toyed with the weight of your phone in your hand, watching the charms jostle - still smiling like an idiot. Three down.

#jackass fanfic #jackass x reader #johnny knoxville x reader #bam margera x reader #steve o x reader #chris pontius x reader #ryan dunn x reader #if you're gonna be dumb

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